His tears all along
by LegacyChick
Summary: 'All I want is for him to be here with me. I don't want to die alone.' Angsty Death-Fic told from Wade's POV. Between all my smuttiness I just needed something dark. Warning: Slash Pairing: Wade/Johnny


**Something else, something dark, something angsty. Don't ask where I've gotten the idea from, but it freaks me out that I had absolutely no problem writing it. **

**Thank you again for ALL the lovely reviews for 'SmutFest', btw! :)**

**Pairing: Wade/Johnny Curtis (fun game helped me find this pairing)**

**Title: His tears all along**

**Warning: Slash, Angst, Death**

**Disclaimer: I own the idea. The characters luckily belong to themselves.**

**Told from Wade's POV.**

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I'm drifting in and out of consciousness. For how long already I don't know. I know I'm dying. Probably soon. Here, in that cold, sterile hospital-room. Not alone, but lonely.

So many people are here, so, so many, but not the one person I really want to see. I NEED to see.

My eyes are open at the moment. They randomly flutter shut. It's the only body-part I can still move, though not willingly. My hands, my feet, my lips, nothing works anymore. My body's just a shell. My heart's beating slowly, anomalous, I'm breathing through a machine stuck in my throat.

They don't know that I can still see them. I can still hear them. Even smell them. I can see their fear, hear their pain, smell the sweet, lingering scent of death. And he isn't here. He, whom kept me alive for the past 3 years.

The first time I've opened my eyes, I've been surrounded by doctors. A lot of them. Medical stuff, machines, beeping noises everywhere. The next time, my mom. Flowers. Tears. Then Justin and Heath. Friends. Co-Workers. People I trust. Balloons. Probably Heath's idea. Justin thought no one saw his tears, but I did. Then my mom again. All the way from England she'd traveled. The moment she heard that I'd collapsed. One concussion too many.

Even Orton showed up. And Stephen. Thinking I couldn't hear them bickering. But I did. And I would have smiled if I were able to. Not even a couple but bitching like an old wedded pair. Ted and Alberto. With Riggs. The man seriously had the nerve to bring his dog here, even though he knows they scare me shitless. Or maybe because of it.

But he... he didn't show. And no one said a word about him. I don't want to leave this world before I didn't get the chance to apologize.

I deserve this; I deserve to die. For everything I've done. Everything I've put him through. Everything I've done to my family and my friends. I've fucked up, big time, and this is what I get for it. It's fair and I'm not fighting it. I just want a little longer. Until he's here. IF he ever comes.

My eyes flutter open again to meet worried browns. Here's my mom again. Being her usual calm self. trying to be strong for her own sake and mine. But I see the dried tears. The bags under her eyes. I hear the worry and grief in her else so angelic voice as she's talking to me. About the rest of my family. What's happening at him. People sending prayers my way. Even if it's too late for it though.

For the past three years I took everything to ease the pain, to ease my mind, to get 'normal' again, only to realize in the end that I AM normal. I've always been. But three years ago having feelings for another man seemed so damn freaky, so disgusting, so fucking scary that even a few pints of beer didn't help me anymore. So other things followed. Therapy, pills, grass and... more. I cannot even speak it out... I just feel embarrassed, ashamed for all the shit I've done. For the way I treated everyone around me but especially myself.

I didn't care anymore. I neglected my friends, my family, my health, my body, my soul and most of all my heart.

The first concussion went unnoticed, the second untreated, the third I swept under the table, and now? The doctors don't even give me a chance. I won't wake up again. All the freaking drugs, all the hits to my head, the alcohol and the self-destruction... paying its tolls.

And where does this leave him?

From day one he'd been there. Trying to wake me up. Even though he'd been the reason I've gone down this path. He tried to stop me. Made me feel. Let me go through every emotion possible. Love, lust, hate, happiness, desire, self-loathing, disgust, pain, envy, craving, passion. And I pushed him away, again, and again. I've hurt him, I've hit him, I've ripped his heart out and stomped on it more than just once. And my Johnny always came back to me. Forgave me. Loved me. Until now. Now that I need him the most, I've lost him.

My eyes close again for the time being, but I can still feel my heart-beat, steady but slow, very slow, too slow for the doctors, the breathing-machine doing all the work it can, the instruments around me beeping endlessly, loudly, painfully in my ears.

I don't know how many hours have passed. Or minutes. Maybe days. I feel some wetness underneath my eyes. Tears. My own. I didn't know that I was still able to cry. And I don't know why I did. It seems like I don't know anything anymore. Before I can open my eyes though, I drift off again. Hearing a faint voice, a very faint one. Feeling a warm hand on my arm. A thumb stroking my cold skin. Smelling something very familiar... 'Azzaro pour Homme'.

The next time I wake the warm, safe feeling is gone again. This time my eyes manage to flutter open but I can see nothing but darkness surrounding me. It must be night. I don't know if I've dreamed it or if it was real. If he was really here. Or if it was a hallucination. I want to turn my head, so badly, I want to move and search the room for him. I want to say something, anything, his name. Ask if he's here. If he forgives me. Hold his hand. Promise to be better. But all of it is plain absurd. Almost wickedly ridiculous. Me, laying here, unmoving, unable to speak, unable to touch, to reach out.

And I've brought this all upon myself. I've turned myself into this lifeless cripple. Into a shell. Unable to live without the support of a machine. Ready to die. But I will not cry. I will not complain. I am not going to fight it. Because I deserve it. Really, all I want is for him to be here. To hold my hand while I drift off into unconsciousness again and this time forever. I don't want this to end without him by my side. Even though my egomaniac, self-destructive, heartless self doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve him.

I swear by god I FLINCH just the moment when a warm hand lands on my cheek all of a sudden and I think I'm dreaming. I must be. Because I see him. Right here. Right above me. Warm, caring, loving browns staring straight at me, straight into me, into my soul. I didn't hallucinate. It really is him. In all his glory. With that annoyingly sweet perfume covering his else so manly scent. His large palm trembling, Those soft lips moving as he speaks. But I don't understand a word. I just stare at him. My mind blank. What a joke.

God, I MUST be dreaming. The medication must have been a little too high this time. I just... I... The wetness underneath my eyes returns. I'm crying again and he realizes it immediately, thumbs carefully stroking the salty tears away before he presses his lips onto mine. And all I want is to kiss him back. To hold him. Hold him and never let him go again. I want to fight again, for my life, for us, for our love. Even though I know it is too late. Fuck, it is too late.

He pulls away again, slowly, one hand on my head, caressing my surely messy and sweaty and sticky hair. God, I must look like a ghost. A mess. So unworthy of him. I just want to... to apologize. Say something. Anything. I don't want him to go again.

His eyes are fixed on mine. As if he's searching them for something. Staring. I want to hide. The scrutiny in his gaze is almost killing me. And then, suddenly, he blinks and all I see his warmth again. And a smile on his lips. I hear his voice loud and clear, hoarse, full of regret, pain and love.

"I've forgiven you a long time ago. I love you. I'm so sorry I haven't been there."

I hear it and my heart clenches. His hand moves to mine and he squeezes it firmly, his soft thumb stroking my raw palm. As my eyes slowly flutter shut, he leans down again to press his lips against mine once more, and only now that he is so very, very near, seconds before I drift away, I see his watery eyes and realize that the tears have never been mine.

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***hides behind the couch* Don't kill me, please!? Review!**


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